


No Choice

by firesign10



Series: SPN Pairing Bingo 2013 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Non Consensual, Rape, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is revisited by a couple of people from his past - but not voluntarily. And they may not be what they seem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Choice

Sam's head hurts. He figures it was from when he hit the floor, after being flung down like a sack of laundry. Aside from that, he isn't in too bad of a shape - his wrists burn a little from the rope tying them together, and his left hip hurts where he landed when the shapeshifter tripped him. He knows it was the shapeshifter because the real Dean is at the apartment of that cute redhead he'd picked up at the bar earlier. Sam saw them off and then started walking back to the motel, alone. Suddenly "Dean" was next to him, minus any smell of sex - a dead giveaway. Sam walked along with him for a few minutes before breaking into a run. He hared off into the woods alongside the road, but a long object - a big tree branch, he guesses, from the uneven shape - had been inserted between his legs and he'd crashed to the ground.

Now he sits on a chair, rope tied around his wrists, rope binding his torso to the chair back, rope fastening his ankles to the chair legs. He can see, but the light is dim. It doesn't look to be the sewer system tunnels preferred by shifters; this is an actual room in an apparently abandoned house. There's a pile of pinkish goo off to one side - he'd lay a bet that that goo is "Dean". Now the shapeshifter could be anyone, taking any form. Including his.

Footfalls tap outside the door, making Sam tense. The door opens, and he feels the entrance of the shapeshifter like a blow to the chest. It's masquerading as a woman - a woman with a shapely figure and long, blonde hair. A few moles daintily accent her features, while her cut-off Smurf tee shirt clings to her boobs and shows off her trim waist. She comes over to Sam, running a slim finger across his mouth. He clenches his jaw and jerks his head away from her, earning him a small slap on the cheek.

"Uh-uh, Sam! No pulling away from me! You've missed me, baby, but now I'm here! Aren't you happy?" she coos. Her hair tickles his cheek as it swings forward. It smells like the strawberry shampoo she'd favored. That scent stabs Sam in the heart.

Jessica stands in front of him, hands on her hips, back arched to show off her breasts. "Damn, Sammy, you picked good! She's a babe! Bet you loved giving it to her, throwing her legs up and just fucking right in - " Sam roars as he bucks inside his bonds. Jessica laughs, clapping her hands. "Oh, Sammy! You were always my white knight, weren't you? You were my stalwart lover, until the day you finally left me. Do you remember that day, Sam? You rode off with your brother, and then I DIED. I DIED, Sam, I died in flames on the goddamn ceiling, blood pouring out of my guts, because you were gone!" She slaps him hard, whipping his head to one side 

Sam blinks the tears back. He knows it isn't really Jessica - she's dead. Dead and gone, dead and buried. It's the shapeshifter, and it's using the shapeshifter's ability to download the personality and memories of the body it's molded after. Not really Jessica, with her ready laugh, her sweet smile, her soft body that welcomed him so lovingly. Not Jessica who'd left cookies out for him, baked before she was taken and broken and gutted, pinned on the ceiling for his return and the subsequent flames of her incineration. Not Jessica, with whom he'd truly explored what it meant to make love with someone; what that give and take meant emotionally as well as physically. This thing, this creature is a far, far cry from her sweetness and beauty. It's ugly and crass and evil. It profanes her.

She walks around him slowly, using exaggerated rolls of her hips to make her ass sway. She stops in front of him again, pouting. "Oh, Sammy, I'm so sad! Don't you want your baby girl anymore?" She slowly runs her hands down to her breasts, circling them, cupping them as she gently squeezes them. "I dunno, Sammy, these babies are pretty hot, if you ask me." Her hands slide down to her hips before one moves to her crotch. "And this pussy? This is one fine, fucking cunt, boy. Pink and smooth like a porn star's, it's already wet and juicy for your cock." She moves closer, standing between his knees. Oh god, he can smell her now, smell her baby powder and her arousal. The scent puts him right back in their apartment, their private haven for studying and sex. Sam's knees feel the warmth of her thighs as they rub against him. Jessica pushes down her pajama shorts now, and slips her hand in between her legs. Sam is shaking, his body automatically responding to the look, smell and feel of what appears to be his girlfriend, and yet he's trying desperately not to succumb. Despite his revulsion for the shifter, Sam's cock is hard as it responds to fake-Jessica, pushing against the zipper of his jeans. Her breasts are brushing his face, the soft globes smooshing into him, and he scrunches up his mouth and eyes as he resists her. No! Not her, not her, not HER!

Jessica makes a disgusted sound as she pulls away. "Damn, Sammy, did you become a fucking monk while I was gone?" She slaps him again, but the pain is a relief - it breaks the sexual spell she's casting over him. God, she looks, sounds, smells so real! He _does_ want to fuck her, wants to sink onto a bed with her and feel her sweet pussy take him in. He clings to the knowledge that this is not her, but instead a slimy horror playing dress-up. He looks over at the pile of pink goo, staring hard at the disgusting mass, and his cock softens in his jeans.

"Fine, Sam," the voice speaks again, but it's changed. Lower pitched, smoky, and if Sam thinks he had a tough time already, well, he's so damn wrong. Jessica exited through another door after her last slap, and Sam figures she is changing forms. He tries to calm down - the ordeal has already taken a lot out of him emotionally, and he has no idea what to expect next.

Even so, he is shocked when Madison walks in. Madison, that amazing woman he'd spent a couple of very memorable nights with. One night he spent watching her, waiting to see if she'd turn into a werewolf, hungry for human hearts. When she hadn't, they'd spent all of that next day in bed. They'd made love sweetly and tenderly, and they'd rutted like animals, growling and biting, Sam taking her from behind forcefully as she screamed in pleasure. She'd been his first lover since Jessica - he had already thought he'd never bed a woman again, but Madison had completely disarmed him. Her dark, curly hair and huge brown eyes were just the start - there'd been her love of reading, her ready wit, her earthy sense of humor. She had been amazing in every sense of the word; a lover, a potential partner, a best friend in the making.

And then Sam had killed her. Had held his silver Taurus under her chin as the tears streamed from his eyes, as her mouth whispered words of forgiveness and pleas for him to end it for her. Had pulled the trigger. He'd held her body afterward, ignoring the blood and brains sprayed across the ceiling, crushing her already cooling form to his and sobbing. Dean had wrapped her in a blanket and put her in the Impala while Sam stood numbly by, and they drove way, way out of the city. They salted and burned her body in a distant field, then continued driving through the night. Sam's eyes had been dry by the time they left her pyre, but the gash in his heart bled still.

And now this abomination is wearing her. It's slipped on her creamy skin, her small, firm breasts, her mobile red lips, her graceful brows arching over her large, dark eyes. The shapeshifter's got all of that on and now it's parading the whole shebang around in front of Sam. He's hard again, even as he curses himself for it. Madison's wearing a mint green lace bra and one of those tiny panties she had folded in front of him that day back in the past, and it barely covers anything. Her nipples poke firmly against the snug lace; dark pubic hair shadows through the lace panties. She looks edible and sexy and _alive_ and god _dammit_ , Sam wants to fuck her. He wants to kiss her all over like he did that magical day; explore her body and see how well his fits with it. He remembers her moving underneath him, her hips bucking against his, and shit, his cock is like a fucking lead pipe in his jeans. He feels a wet patch starting to form as his cock begins leaking.

Madison seems to know what he's feeling, because she's smiling now. Not a beautiful, funny Madison smile, but one filled with evil and sex. She prances over to him and plops onto his lap. "Oh, Sammy!" she purrs. "What are you hiding there? Is it for me?" She wriggles, making Sam groan helplessly at the pressure her body places on his. His jaw clenches as he strives to ignore her, but his body is reacting on a purely physical basis and it's hard to derail the insistent physical urge. Now he can smell her too, a faint spicy scent with undertones of wet pussy, evocative of twisting limbs and tangled sheets. "Here, maybe you need these," she murmurs as she pushes the cups of the lace bra down. Her breasts are exposed to his gaze, the pretty mounds crowned with little, dark red nipples. "See, Sammy, right here. They're _right here_. Don't they look yummy?" and she licks a finger before rolling it over her nipple. The wet track glistens on the red nub, and Sam can just about taste it. He knows how hard that tiny nub would feel against his tongue, how those perfect little globes would fill his hands and mouth. He groans again, feeling pre-come spurt from his slit and start soaking into his boxers. Jesus, even with knowing what this creature really is, he is unable to resist its physical lure. His body is responding to Madison's form independent of his will, and the dichotomy of that reaction is really fucking his mind over.

"Why?" Sam grunts, twisting his head away from her. "Why are you doing this? You just want to see how bad a case of blue balls you can give me?"

Madison gets off his lap, pushing her breasts into his face as she rises. She laughs at his rough breathing; she senses his desire like incense in the air. She felt his hard-on when she sat on his lap. The shapeshifter is having fun, torturing him like this. She can tease and play with him until he loses his mind with want and need for her. But that isn't the main reason for her actions - it's just the perks.

"It's you, Sammy. You know, who you are? You're the Boy King, and I want your child. I want you to fuck one of these lovely ladies from your past and spill your seed inside me. I want to carry the Heir of the Boy King. We shapeshifters, we're long-lived and wily, but not, shall we say, well-respected. To bear the son of the Boy King, well - that would be quite an coup for us, would give us a great deal of power. I am the Alpha of my race - I am so powerful that I don't need to touch my prey to copy them. I can copy simply by sight, for example. I saw your brother in the bar with you, and that was enough for me to copy him and walk beside you. These two women? I got them from your mind. Their images are graven on your brain, and I reached out and plucked them forth. I made them flesh for you, knowing that at least one of them would likely provoke the response from you that I needed. And here we are! You are quite susceptible to both these forms, although the brunette seems to be eliciting more of the reaction we desire." She puts a hand down and fondles Sam's cock, squeezing his hard length and forcing more pre-come out of it. "I think you are just about ready to service me, Sam Winchester."

Tears begin seeping out of Sam's eyes, as grief for both Jessica and Madison mingles with his anger and frustration at the shapeshifter's plan. He is not a goddamn stud, and he refuses to fuck this monster against his will. The forms she's chosen are playing on his heart and his desire, but he's trying to be strong. Unfortunately, his dick is not getting the message. His body beholds beautiful Madison, feels her heat, smells her spicy scent, sees her beautiful breasts and body. He's been alone a long time, has Sam, and his body craves comfort and release. It _wants_. He thinks of terrible things he's seen in his time as a hunter: dead children, rotting corpses, foul beasts. He thinks of Madison's brains on the ceiling of her charming, quirky apartment - red and gray mixed in an awful pastiche. Nothing helps deter his physical reaction; he is powerless against the effect created by the shapeshifter's hand squeezing him hard as she rubs her nipples against his resolutely closed mouth. She unzips his jeans, and he whimpers. She burrows her hand into his boxers and pulls his erection out, and oh god, her fucking hand is so damn hot against his skin. Madison pumps his dick, expertly twisting her hand and rubbing her thumb over the slick head. The front of Sam's shorts are soaked in precome, and now it's drooling out of his cock freely, dripping in strings on her fingers as she strokes him. She rubs the slick up and down his shaft, pausing to lick her fingers in a leisurely fashion. He grits his teeth and whimpers again, pinned between the twin agonies of desire and despair.

Madison swings one leg over Sam's lap, straddling him. She keeps stroking him with one hand, but with the other she plays with herself. She runs two fingers between her thighs, rubbing them around her pussy and slipping them inside her. Pulling the wet digits out, she brings them to Sam's mouth, which is still clenched shut. She runs her fingers over his lips, painting them with her juices, laughing as he snorts to repel her. She lets go of his dick for a moment and pinches his nose shut. He reflexively opens his mouth to breath, and as soon as he does, she slides her slippery fingers in, forcing him to taste her. Sam wails in dismay - she's out-maneuvering him at every turn. His thoughts are filled with sorrow, grief, and loathing, but his body smells and tastes Madison's sweet pussy and wants it. Wants more. Wants to fuck.

Madison lowers herself onto Sam's lap, rubbing herself against his cock, and his hips jerk at the contact. He's so hard it hurts. He's craving release so badly, but his brain keeps screaming how wrong this is. This isn't Madison, sweet and sassy and human. This is a monster cruelly using him. Sam knows he needs to resist, but he's tied up, helpless, and being tormented by a master. The Alpha shapeshifter is playing his body perfectly, driving him into a sexual frenzy. Madison reaches deeper into Sam's boxers to pull out his balls, rolling and squeezing them. Panting harshly as he clings to his sanity amid the lust building inside him, Sam realizes that he's losing the fight. He doesn't want to be used, doesn't want his body to be subverted for the shapeshifter's ends, but Madison is wearing him down. His brain is starting to check out from the horror he's faced with. It's focusing on the physical pleasure and relief his body is so urgently demanding. His psyche is screaming for help, for rescue, but there is no help to come. Dean probably doesn't even know Sam has been taken yet. The harvesting of Sam's semen - against his will - is inevitable. He feels his mind gray out as he succumbs his fate.

As Sam's mind gives up, Sam's cock sticks straight up in his lap while his balls nestle tightly close at the base. He's panting and sobbing, his head back and his eyes shut in as much denial as he can still summon. Madison grips his erection firmly and holds it as she slowly sinks down upon it. Sam feels every hot inch of her cunt swallowing him until she is fully impaled on his lap. She's panting as well, gasping a little as she strives to catch her breath. Sam is a large man with a very large dick, and it takes her a minute to adjust to his size. Holding on tightly to his shoulders, Madison begins to rise and fall on Sam's cock, flexing her thighs to raise her body up on his shaft. Then she either slowly eases down in agonizing delight, or simply drops, landing on his thighs with a thump. That fast, hard drop takes his breath away every time, forcing a grunt out of him. 

Madison takes one hand from his shoulder, leaving the other there for balance, and plays with his nipples as she rides his cock. She teases, flicks, and twists his nipples, until he doesn't know if he's moaning from the pleasure or the pain. Every touch zings to his dick, making it twitch inside her hot, wet walls. She rides him hard now, not going up and down as much, but rocking and grinding on him. She abandons his nipples to reach behind her and start tugging and squeezing his balls. He shouts as the conflict between his body and his brain escalates, the closer he gets to orgasm. It's killing him to respond to - not her! _Not her_! His body is avidly seeking its release - she's tormented him into a state of complete sexual agitation that will not be denied. His balls tighten and Sam knows it's almost over, but he still cries out in anger and despair as he feels his body draw close to completion. This isn't sex; this is evil! 

The approach of his climax drives Sam to the brink, and he feels his mind start fragmenting. Madison laughs as she too feels his impending orgasm, and she grinds herself against him even harder. She's as ready to come as he is, rubbing her breasts against his sweaty chest as she licks and bites his neck. He knows she's on the brink when she starts moaning and squealing, her grinding pelvis losing its rhythm. She yowls like a cat in heat as she feverishly rubs against him, her hips churning around his dick. Her cunt convulses around him, her muscles squeezing his cock as she comes. Sam screams in pain and defeat as his cock stiffens to its utmost before it pulses his seed inside her, jetting come in hot bursts deep into her body. His body thrills with the orgasm, sending him into a trance-like state as endorphins flood his body, and his brain shuts down. 

The room quiets. Madison breathes heavily, collapsed over Sam's body, his cock still inside her. Sam's head lolls back with his eyes shut. The shapeshifter stands up slowly, her legs shaky from her vigorous ride. She swings one leg back from Sam's lap and stands for a moment, her knees wobbly. She pulls Sam's head up by his hair, shaking him. He doesn't respond - his eyes stay closed, his neck limp. "Pcha!" she snorts, letting it drop back again. "So sleep, Sam Winchester. We'll be doing this again very soon." She walks weakly out of the room without a backward glance.

Sam never knows how long he was out. When he comes to, his crotch feels cold and sticky. His naked dick lies on his bare thighs and crusty boxers, limp and exposed. His neck aches from being at such an awkward angle, and he's thirsty. He tries to spit, as he can still taste the shapeshifter's pussy on his tongue, but he doesn't have enough saliva. Tears leak from his eyes as the shapeshifter's attack on him replays in his memory. It has been a long, long time since Sam's considered himself vulnerable; at 6'4" and 220 lbs., he's not easy prey. Yet here he's been trapped, immobilized, and then attacked in the most primal of ways. And the shapeshifter's motive - Sam shudders. To think of that creature bearing a child with his seed, his DNA, is utterly loathsome. 

But he's still tied up. And he's pretty sure he heard the Alpha shifter say that she plans to come back soon and fuck him again. And there's still nothing he can do about it. What Sam does know, is that a couple more rounds like the first one? He will lose his mind.

He's almost grateful when he passes out again.

This time, a noise wakes Sam up. It's the quiet squeaking of a knife sawing through rope. His throat closes in fear and he must make a small noise, because there's whispering in his ear.

Dean's rough voice speaks softly to Sam, "Shhhh, buddy, 's okay. I gotcha. Just stay quiet while I get these damn ropes off you, okay?"

Sam nods, breathing a slow exhalation of relief. Then he remembers his disarrayed clothing and glances down quickly. Dean's overshirt lies across his lap. Sam closes his eyes in gratitude. Sure, Dean must have seen his dick hanging out, but just having that shirt over himself is hugely comforting to Sam. Not like he and his brother haven't seen each other naked before, but the violation is leaving Sam emotionally raw.

"Almost done, dude. Then we'll get outta here. The car is close by."

Sam nods again, then registers Dean's words more clearly. He starts shaking his head violently. They can't leave - not yet.

"No, Dean!! No!! We gotta kill it! Kill it _now_!" Dean's face is shocked as Sam hisses and gasps the words out. "We can't take any chances, Dean! Gotta kill it NOW!" His eyes tear up with rage and frustration. Dean's worry apparently ratchets up several degrees, judging by his wrinkled brow as he observes his usually stoic brother. He attacks the rope with renewed vigor.

"Sammy, it's okay. We can kill it now. I got a silver knife on me." Dean grunts as he finishes sawing through the last rope. "There ya go, you're all set. Take it easy standing up now, you're gonna be stiff, okay?"

Dean helps Sam off the chair and up onto his feet. Sam is indeed stiff, both from the enforced sitting and the abuse from the shapeshifter. He puts his arms around Dean's neck, ostensibly for support, but he'll take the reassurance of having his big brother with him. Dean hugs him back, thumping Sam's back in relief. Sam figures Dean is wondering why he's reacting so strongly, but he figures they'll talk it out later. Right now, it's time to get moving.

"Sam, what do you know about it? Is it alone? What's it want?" Dean checks his weaponry as he peppers Sam with questions. Sam stands up on his own power now, the dazed look fading from his eyes. He pulls his fly closed and zips it quickly, then picks up Dean's discarded shirt and pulls it on. Sam doesn't know how to tell Dean what happened, but he knows he has to. From a hunting standpoint alone, Dean needs to know the shapeshifter's motivation so that he'll understand why Sam needs to kill it.

"Only saw one. Very specific motive. First it wore Jessica," and Sam ignores Dean's startled reaction to that news. "Then it wore Madison." Sam has to clear his throat here, studiously not looking at Dean. He knows Dean understands the impact that those two choices would have on Sam. "It wants - it wants to -" Sam breathes heavily through his nose now, fighting the urge to vomit. " It's the Alpha Shapeshifter, and it wants to fuck me and get pregnant with my child. It wants to carry the spawn of the Boy King. It's making a power play with me as the pawn." Sam sees the whole ordeal with fake-Madison playing out in front of him as he fills Dean in, and the nausea he's fighting back as he speaks overwhelms him when he's done. There's only a gag or two of warning before he pukes onto the floor, dropping to his hands and knees as the vomit forces its way out. It feels like he's purging from his very balls, his body wracked as his insides convulse. Dean holds his shoulders, keeping him from face-planting into his own mess, and he pulls Sam back when it's over. Sam's limp and shaking, wiping his mouth with a shirttail, a few slow tears trickling down his face. He feels drained and quiet for a moment.

Dean is sitting behind him, and he pulls Sam back to sit between his legs while he examines Sam's face. Sam wants to hide his shame from Dean - hide how his body and soul were used and violated. Hide how he was too weak to stop it from happening. As much as Dean has always accepted Sam's flaws, this particular blend of victimization and evil is more than Sam wants him to see. Ever. He pushes Dean's hands away and scrambles to his feet. Resolutely ignoring Dean's concerned, questioning eyes, Sam points to the door that Jessica/Madison used. "This is where it came in and out." He sees his jacket in a corner of the room and goes to pick it up before they leave the room.

The hunting part is actually over pretty quickly. The shapeshifter comes into the next room a few minutes after they enter it. It's still wearing Madison, clad in the mint green bra and panties. Sam feels like vomiting again, and Dean is shocked to actually see it. They attack immediately, and even with the strength of a shifter, Madison's form is no match for the Winchesters. They grapple her to the ground and Dean pulls his silver knife for the killing blow. Sam stops him and grabs the knife himself. Madison squirms and writhes as she tries to break loose, but to no avail. She curses and yells at them, screaming that she needs to have Sam's child. "I might already have conceived! You could be killing your own offspring! You can't take that chance - you will never live with yourself if you kill me now!" Madison hisses at Sam. His jaw clenches so hard it hurts, his eyes stony as they look at the thing wearing Madison.

"I could never live with myself if you _did_ conceive! Any child of mine will not be a MONSTER!" Sam bites out, and then his arm swings up high. It's a graceful arc, that swing, and its grace is only matched by the downward swing that buries the silver knife deep into the shapeshifter. It screams in anguish, a terrible sound that dies down into gurgles. Madison's dark eyes glaze, and her limbs fall limp. Within seconds, her skin begins to slough off, wet strings of goo oozing down to the floor. Her features blur, and then Dean grabs Sam and hugs him, keeping his face away from the rapidly decomposing body. "It's enough you saw her die once, man. You don't need to see it again," Dean murmurs, and Sam begins to sob. It's like he has to mourn Madison all over again, mourn the spunky, feisty woman who lovely form was so cruelly appropriated by the Alpha shapeshifter.

Dean holds him for several minutes, until Sam's breathing slows and settles. His face is wet, but he feels some relief, like the tears have cleansed him somewhat. He avoids the goo pile, atop which a mint green lace bra soggily perches, and walks to the door. He and Dean exit, and Sam sees the Impala across the yard. The shiny black car has never looked so welcoming. He moves to get into the passenger seat as Dean takes the driver's seat, throwing his jacket in the back. As they drive off, Dean asks Sam if he wants a motel room. Sam nods, craving a shower and clean clothes to help eradicate the physical traces of his captivity. He knows Dean has questions, but right now he needs to clean up and have a stiff drink. Sam's not eager to relive what happened, but he'll answer Dean as he can. 

Then he'll work on forgetting.

They pull up to The Della Rosa Motel and get a room. Predictably, the decor is rose-themed. Dean looks aghast at the pink and yellow cabbage roses all over the bedspreads and curtains, while the walls are a bilious green. Sam simply heads directly into the bathroom with his duffel, not even stopping to take clean clothes out first. He flips the shower on, letting the hot water get up to speed as he strips. He kicks his old clothing into the corner, idly considering burning them. He gets into the shower, sighing as the water hits him. It feels so good - he didn't even realize how chilled he was. He washes his hair, then soaps his body. He washes his crotch three times. Then he stands again, letting the water sluice the soap off him, letting his mind stop for a moment.

Only, it doesn't. Instead of stopping, his mind falls into a loop where Madison fucks him over and over. Again and again, he sees himself get hard, sees her take from him what should only be his to give. Sees himself helpless beneath her body, her cunt swallowing his cock as she rides him relentlessly.

He feels sick again, but he's got nothing left to vomit. Sam starts shaking, but he doesn't realize he's crying. Crying escalates to great, jagged sobs that jerk his body as he howls his despair. There's nothing in his mind but darkness, pain, and the shapeshifter stripping away his soul. He's weak and broken, the rape has shattered him, and he doesn't know how to put himself back together at all. He wants to hide there, curl up in the tub with the curtain over him, and never come out again.

Suddenly, Dean is there. He pulls the shower curtain open and grabs Sam's arm, turns Sam to him. "Sam! Sam! Sammy!" he yells. He tugs Sam to step out of the tub, which Sam does blindly. Still shaking and numb, but now quiet, Sam stands there in a daze as Dean wraps a towel around his waist and another around his shoulders. Dean guides him back into the room and over to one of the beds. He dries Sam off and stuffs his legs into clean sweatpants. "Up," he says, and Sam lifts his arms for a t-shirt.

Clean, dry, and clothed, Dean pushes Sam up on the bed, pulling down the comforter and tucking Sam in. Sam's still shaking, can't stop, and he feels like he never will. Nothing exists in his head but the torment he's been through. He's so fucking glad he killed that shapeshifter himself, but it doesn't undo what happened. It doesn't take away the pain, the grief, and the violation he's suffered. Sam's taken enough psych courses and witnessed enough trauma to know healing takes time. A lot of time. And sometimes - sometimes, it never really goes away.

The bed dips behind him, and he freezes for a split second before the smell of leather and gun oil and Old Spice envelopes him. Dean's under the comforter, where he crawls up behind Sam and spoons him. The solid warmth of Dean's body is pressed completely against Sam's back and legs, reassuring Sam that he's not alone, not unprotected. Dean wraps an arm around Sam, pulling him even closer, and his breathing tickles the tiny hairs on the back of Sam's neck. Slowly, Sam's body eases and the shaking recedes. His stomach begins to unknot, and the terrible memories gray out as sleep moves in.

Sam knows it's not over. He's going to have to talk about what happened, bring it out into the light, in order to start ridding himself of the horror. He's going to have nightmares, and he's going to have to deal with the grief of Jessica's and Madison's deaths afresh. He doesn't even know yet what effect this will have on any intimacy in his future. That's all still to come. It's going to be hour by hour tomorrow - maybe even minute by minute. Tonight, he's safe. Today, he won, even with the steep price he paid. And right now, he has his brother.

And right now, it's enough.


End file.
